


Move Like New Tunes

by Rubynye



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Competitive sex, Dancing, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve goes out dancing. Sam has a good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move Like New Tunes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodworkperky (jadore_macabre)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=goodworkperky+%28jadore_macabre%29).



> For the splendiferous goodworkperky in the SamStevExchange2015.
> 
> Title from "An Affinity For Bats: by A.E. Stallings: http://www.versedaily.org/affinitybats.shtml
> 
> With thanks to Azephirin, Bikergeek, and Caitri for commentary, and Faun Songs for the inspiring original image.

The kiss tingles Steve's cheek all the way back into the club. He doesn't think the girl recognized him; she was too loose-limbed and giggly with relief and ... whatever else she partook of tonight. The cabbie noticed, eyebrows hiking when he realized Steve wasn't getting in beside her, but Steve just slapped on his Captain America smile, handed over enough cash to drive her to Philadelphia, shut the door and turned back towards the club. She's safe, the masher's been ejected from the club, and Steve has most of the night still ahead of him.

The woman at the door gives him a stone-faced glance and a slow wink, and Steve gives her a real smile back, a little lopsided as he tips his head. She reminds him of Natasha done over in tawny colors, and as he slips inside, the music surging up to engulf him and the floor shuddering beneath his feet, he makes a mental note to tell her so. Later. After he's wrung himself out dancing, and maybe found some other fun too.

The club's refreshingly overwhelming, strobing lights and scintillating music, the crowd a kaleidoscope of fragmented sights and sounds. Bodies jostle and press around Steve, sleek skin and textured cloth, musk and flowers and tangy sweat. If he needed to, Steve could focus, assess threats, find people in trouble; he saw the guy pinning the girl to the wall, after all, spotted the openmouthed dismay on her face even through the flashing lights. He could, but he doesn't have to.

Instead he can lean against the bar, propping his elbow on a surface slick and hard as Stark's armor, and watch the crowd swirl, gyrating on the dance floor, bobbing and bustling throughout the room. He can let the music soak into him, pounding like a massive heartbeat, the singer's voice a metallic alien wail, satisfyingly unfamiliar. 

An icy round press against his arm makes him turn; it's a beer bottle held out by a smiling young bartender, his red-orange hair crested in the middle, freckles visible on his nose even in the flickering light. He waves off Steve's reach for his wallet, mouthing 'ON THE HOUSE', and Steve grins and tips the bottle in a grateful little salute before he turns away.

The napkin stuck to its base peels away, Steve catches it and finds it adorned with a phone number. Well. His cheeks heat under the humid air, and he takes a his first sip cautiously. Just beer. Pocketing the napkin, Steve drains the bottle, leaves it on the end of the bar, and sidles through the writhing crowd back onto the dance floor.

It's no less packed there, just more rhythmic, bodies sliding and stroking alongside his as he shimmies to the pounding music, fleeting touches of skin and brushes of hair. Modern dancing makes him remember every articulation in his spine, as he shakes his hips and lifts his arms, careful not to knock into the people around him, smiling a little wider each time someone bumps warmly into him. He watches girls wriggle like they have nothing but elastic in their backs, guys stomp and twist and sway, as he dances until his whole body warms and loosens like wax. Every thought in his head washes away beneath the torrent of music and the surge of pressing between all these vibrating, laughing, living bodies. 

The song changes and the crowd roars, everyone's hands flying up over their heads as they shout incomprehensible lyrics to some classic Steve hasn't heard yet. He doesn't bother trying to understand, just shakes his head and feels sweat slide over his skin, someone leaning shoulders against his back, two girls giggling as they press boldly to his front. He smiles down at them and tips his head back, and a different movement catches the corner of his eye.

Steve looks. There's a tall dark beautiful man dancing like supple sin, square shoulders filling his tight t-shirt, dapper little mustache framing his full upper lip, aviator sunglasses reflecting the gyrations around him. Hips rocking in seductive little circles, he shimmies to the beat with a cool, effortless air, refreshing in the humid club. His teeth flash, bright in the pulsing darkness, and Steve realizes he's been caught looking, and answered with a smile; those lush lips press into a sweet curl, and Steve turns before he even thinks about it, tossing an arm out above the crowd, shamelessly beckoning. The handsome fellow dances sideways, slipping through the thrashing crowd to catch Steve's outflung hand, his fingers striking electric sparks up Steve's wrist as he slots in behind Steve, pressing thighs to thighs, shoulders to chest. The girls blink wide-eyed, one smiling hugely, one pouting, and Steve shrugs a little, his ears burning as the fellow he's found slides solid arms across his chest, locking them together.

Steve remembers close-in dancing, snug in his partner's arms, swaying as one to the music. But this is something else, not least with his fellow tucked to his back, rolling his hips quite frankly against Steve's ass, those strong arms keeping them in tandem, their damp shirts seeming to melt away from between their skins. Steve drinks in his fellow's fresh crisp warmth and rolls his hips in his rhythm, keeping them tight together there too, grinning a little as an insistent pressure makes itself known, tucked into the crease of his ass. He wins a low deep chuckle in his ear and a brush of those tender full lips, and rocks his head back, opening his throat up for more. It skirts the delicious edge of indecency, this man's soft mouth brushing firmly down the cord of his throat as their hips gyrate in unison, and Steve wants more, more, so much more.

When his fellow murmurs, "Wanna slip out back?" Steve nods hard, and starts maneuvering them through the crowd.

Steve knows which door leads off the dance floor to the fenced-off alley that serves this club as a back room. He's stepped out there before for a breath of cool air, for a little look-see to make sure everyone out there wanted to be, one time because he was pretty sure a kid wasn't happy about getting hustled outside and he turned out to be right. As Steve sets his hand on the latch a girl beside it, digging her fingers into her girlfriend's cloud of curls, opens her eyes, dragging them up and down him as she smirks. Steve smirks right back, his fellow's arms still wrapped around him, and tows him through the doorway. 

There's just one other couple out there right now, but it's still early. Another girl, tall and stunning with improbable purple hair and a short sparkly dress, clutching a lithe pretty person with a blue crest and a spiked vest and a hand up under her shiny skirt. They're handsome, but so's the fellow who came out with Steve, who grips his shoulders and turns him and kisses him with lavish, filthy thoroughness. "Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, mustache tingling Steve's lips, tugging Steve close as he leans back against the wall, "where'd you learn to move like that?"

Steve could ask the same thing, but the mirrored shades tilt down, revealing big soulful eyes dark as August midnight, and Steve loses the power of speech as he falls right in. He kisses his fellow, who chuckles against his eager mouth, pets his trembling shoulders and kisses him back, and for a little while Steve loses himself in this, in the heated feel of a handsome man pressed to him from the lips down, even more happily than he did to the dance. 

He should pull back enough to talk, to suggest they take this somewhere more private perhaps, but instead Steve slips to his knees on the cracked pavement, peeling up that tight shirt to kiss dense skin laced with a few slick scars, feeling the ripple of hard muscle beneath his sliding mouth as his fellow laughs and pets through his hair. Steve doesn't even know whether his eyes are closed or open until he sees a flash of blue and shine, and glances sideways a bit.

The girl's blue-haired beau is kneeling too, tugging a fistful of white lace a little ways down her long thigh, glancing from her pink cock to Steve, eyes full of sharp challenge.

Steve widens his, and glances up at his fellow, who looks sideways with a warm unfurling smile, cups the back of his head, and nods. He glances at the girl, her purple hair caught up into an aureole in the bricks behind her head, her eyes glinting from beneath long thick lashes, her lips curling into a matching smile of challenge as her shiny-tipped fingers curl through blue hair, and he nods in turn. It's on.

Letting them have the head start, Steve peels open the tight jeans before him, nuzzling in as he tugs out his prize, and goes right down as far as he can. He wins a gasping chuckle for it, and a throb down the luscious dick filling his mouth, and takes a deep breath, flattens his tongue into a sweet ripple and swallows around the cockhead tucked into his throat. He'll explore later, kiss and nuzzle and linger and tease to his heart's content, but right now there's a race to win, hard muscle tensing against his forehead and tender balls tightening in the caressing curve of his fingers.

To the side the girl moans like singing, an arching tumble of notes, as blue hair bobs in time with rhythmic slurping. Steve's fellow is quieter, breathier, exhaling little encouragements, "Yeah," and "there," and "good, baby, good," his fingers running ceaselessly through Steve's hair. Steve's own dick throbs against his unyielding zipper, little pulses surging every which way beneath his skin, but he doesn't even bother sparing himself a hand, just clutches a square solid-fleshed hip, digs his fingers into a sweet full curve of ass, pushes his lips into raspy hair and keeps swallowing. His head's barely starting to prickle with airlessness, and he's looking forward to the spins, to the overwhelming dizzy delight. And to winning.

Purple hair tosses and the shiny skirt flashes, the girl bounces on her toes, groaning as she thrusts up for more of her beau's mouth. It's something to watch her breasts jiggle inside her top while his fellow's dick throbs on his tongue; Steve pushes his tongue tip tight against the vein and feels the pulse hammering, suckles harder and feels it tick even faster as his fellow shudders over him, into him, with an actual whimper. "Mercy, baby," he breathes, velvet and smoke in Steve's ears, "or I'm gonna, I'm gonna --"

Steve isn't merciful. Here come the spins, swirling through him as his lungs beg for oxygen and his heart pounds exultantly, and he keeps working his throat as the gentle hands finally clench pulling-tight around his hair, as his fellow groans deep and long from his belly up and spills down his throat pulse by hot pulse. Steve can't see anymore, just lights flashing behind his eyelids, but he can picture the eyebrows pulled tight over those beautiful dark eyes, and when he hears a more distant cry open into a scream he envisions purple hair tossing as the pretty girl paints her sweetheart's throat too.

God, it's good. It's all so good. The hands dragging on Steve's hair abruptly unclench, land on his shoulders and push, and he reluctantly lets his fellow's dick slip from his mouth, drags a deep breath through his nose and licks his buzzing lips. To the side, the girl's puffing little cries muffle, and Steve blinks his eyes open, pressing his cheek to the damp denim over a sturdy warm thigh, and watches her blue-haired beau kiss her, pressing her against the wall, and scoop her up in two bare corded arms. Looks like everyone won, Steve thinks as the blue crest bobs and he nods in return, and as her sweetheart turns away the girl winks brightly at him through her tumbled purple hair.

Above him, Sam draws a big noisy breath and breaks out laughing, grabs Steve's shoulders and hauls him to his feet into a slick hot kiss. "You are unbelievable," he tells Steve, his eyes sparkling as he pulls off his shades. "I wasn't even expecting -- you on your knees for me, a blow job race with pretty strangers, any of this!"

"Didn't I say I'd show you a good time?" Steve leans in for another kiss, and his dick aches with each press against Sam's hip but his lips just want to stroke and slide against Sam's for at least half of forever. 

All while kissing lushly, Sam tucks away his shades, then himself, then rests his broad palm as lightly as possible over Steve's throbbing dick, just so to make him shake. "The best time, baby," Sam murmurs, curling his arm behind Steve's neck, "but let's go home. The things I'm gonna do to you."

It's not like Steve would ever say no to that. He kisses Sam one more time before they turn to go, and his lips tingle the whole way through the gate and up the alley.


End file.
